The cyborg stood straighter, his tone decisive. “I’m not. I believe in the resistance. I’ve seen the damage the Ardaks have done. I will die for the cause if it helps us defeat them. I couldn’t save my people, but with the upgrades, I might have the power to save others.”
There were several nods and then the others dissolved into private conversations. Mordjan turned Fayelle toward him, away from their view. On the one hand, Mordjan agreed with her. On the other, these rebels had been fighting the Ardaks for a lot longer than they had. If their assessment was that these cyborg upgrades were their best chance for survival, then they would have to try.
Mordjan didn’t want to do this. Didn’t want to have to make the choice. Wanted it to be someone else. But he was here, and the choice was his. He had to make it. He sighed heavily. “I’m going to do it. And I’ll be first.”
Fayelle’s entire body stiffened beside him and she bit her lip.
“Fayelle. . .” His voice became gravelly. “You know I have to. It might not only give us a chance against the Ardaks tailing us, but also it might also give us a chance in the fight for Aurora. There’s no way I can stand here and do nothing.”
The golden glow in her eyes dimmed, and she looked down sadly.
“I have a duty to the people of Aurora, and on a smaller scale, a duty to the resistance, to become the best weapon I can. If I have this opportunity, I have to take it. Please understand.”
She didn’t meet his eyes, but slowly nodded before turning away from him.
The others were still talking amongst themselves, and Mordjan waited patiently until the quiet chattering stopped. “Who is doing the experiments?”
Every cyborg but Simban raised a hand. After a beat, his rose into the air as Irielle gripped his other arm tightly.
“Are you sure about this, Simban?” he asked over their frequency.
“You and I both know this idea of volunteering is just a pretense. They will take us whether we agree or not. I have to protect Irielle even more than I have to protect Aurora. How can I do that if I’m in prison? It’s better to go along and hope that I survive.”
Mordjan knew his words were true, so he let it go. “And everyone else? You all feel the same way?” he asked the others.
“What the hell else are we going to do?” Borian asked, but it wasn’t really a question. “All of our lives are on the line anyway. We all hate the Ardaks, and we all want to survive this war. We have the chance to do something about it. We have to do it.”
“Yes, we’re either going to die during the upgrades or in battle,” Nordan seconded. “I’d rather try to become something better.”
Fayelle’s face was bloodless. “Maybe four should go first and four should go second, just in case things go wrong with the first group.”
“We can draw straws if it comes to that, but because of the time crunch I’m sure they’ll want take all of us if they can.” Mordjan banged on the door, and High Medic Tassarion opened it. “We’re all going to do it.”
The leader’s eyes widened before he nodded once and raised his voice, looking over Mordjan’s shoulder into the room at the others. “All of you follow me, please.”
Mordjan stood aside and watched as they all filed out of his room in front of him.
“I need a moment alone with Fayelle, if it’s all right,” he said to the second medic.
Tassarion glanced down the hall toward the others. “All right. Just don’t take too long, or you’ll miss the instructions and preparation.”
When they were gone, he tried to pull Fayelle to him, but she resisted. She’d been avoiding his gaze since he’d made the commitment to go through with the upgrades.
“You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“Yes, I do. I know I may not survive, but that’s the life of a soldier, Fayelle, especially since the Ardaks came into the picture. Every day might be my last.”
“But this is your choice!” Her voice cracked.
He heard the pain in her tone . . . saw it in her expression.
She finally allowed him to pull her close, and he put his chin on top of her head. “It is. I’ve been the head of the defense force for two hundred and thirty years, and that didn’t change when I left the planet. It’s my job to protect those I can, and that includes you. Besides, Simban is mated and I am . . . not.” His face flushed slightly and he looked away. “And he’s also going ahead with it.”
“You won’t be able to protect any of us if you don’t make it.”
He spun her around and found the fire in her eyes bright. He brushed a thumb over her cheek. “Fayelle. As much as I wish things were different, they aren’t. All we can be is who we are, and I am a cyborg. I was created to carry out tasks and to fight.”
“But what if you don’t make it?” her voice cracked.
“Then they’ll know what they did wrong and they can fix it for the next one.”
“You’re worth more than that!”
“No, I’m not!” His voice rose for the first time. “I am not more or less important than any other being in this war!”
“You’re more important to me!” she yelled back. Then she seemed to realize what she’d said, and her face flushed.
She opened her mouth again, but he put his finger over her lips to silence her.
“Don’t say it. I think we both know how we’re starting to feel, but it cannot change what I have to do.” He paused. “I’m sure this must be difficult for you. What I haven’t admitted—what I don’t want to admit, is that it’s difficult for me, too.”
“What do you mean?” She ran her fingers up one of his arms, lightly testing the muscles there.
He sighed. “I feel this thing between us. It . . . pulls me toward you. But my life is not my own, and I owe it to every male, female, and offspring on Aurora to fix the damage I allowed to happen on my watch. I’ll never rest until I have avenged them.”
She moved her hand to lay it against the side of his face, caressing his cheek, the coarse hairs of his beard. The sound that emerged from him was like a strangled groan.
She pulled back, and the unshed tears in her eyes weighed heavily on him. He’d known her for such a short time and hadn’t wanted to admit how much his attraction to her had grown. If he didn’t have a duty, he would pursue her. For the first time in his two hundred and fifty years, he actually wanted to fall for a woman.
He didn’t have the freedom to do that. It left him feeling empty, his life void of goals outside winning the war. And vengeance was nothing to live for. He’d cautioned his men against it, even after the Ardaks had invaded and they were in cages.
Waging war required a cool head under pressure. It took courage not to let his emotions rule his head, especially in the heat of battle.
It was with that strength he stepped free of her hold. “We need to hurry,” he said as her hand fell back to her side. “We don’t have time for more discussion if we’re going to get back in time.”
“And that attitude is exactly what’s going to get you killed. It’s more likely they’re going to be using you to figure out what not to do next time,” Fayelle pointed out sharply.
Mordjan knew she was speaking from her pain. “Then we’ll be one step closer.” He lowered his voice. “I’m so sorry, Fayelle. I’m sorry that we’re here. I’m sorry that I have to make this choice. And I’m sorry I have to cause you pain to do what’s right.”
She bowed her head and clenched her fist. “If this is your choice, so be it.” Without a backward glance, she turned and strode toward the door.
He knew he’d just lost something rare and precious, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
“Fuck,” he muttered, watching as she disappeared down the dimly lit corridor.
Chapter Sixteen
Fayelle
Fayelle tried to control the shaking in her hands and ignore the pain in her heart. She shouldn’t care for Mordjan this much. He’d started out as such an ud, but she was le
arning that his anger was from grief, and his irritation was because he cared.
Mordjan was doing this for everyone else rather than himself. She knew that, but that didn’t mean she wanted him, or anyone else, to do it. With every hint of magic that flowed through her being, she wanted him to say no.
Another part of her knew that if he did, he wouldn’t be the man she was growing so attracted to. It was that part of him she cared for—his valor, his virtue, and his honor.
She couldn’t take that from him.
Even if the end result was death, it was his choice to make.
Now that he had made the decision, she had a different worry. Even though Mordjan was going to do the surgeries, it was obvious that he didn’t believe he would survive. That attitude would never work. She needed him to believe. The mind was the most powerful tool at his disposal.
They arrived in the med wing to find all of the cyborgs gathered around a bunk, listening to the head medic. “The med wing is divided into five sections, but for the first stage, you’ll be in here. We are going to administer a drug so you lose consciousness, and then we will hook up your blood to a machine, which will cycle out half of your current red blood cells and replace them with the new cells.”
“That’s it?” Borian asked.
“Yes, that’s it. The procedure is simple, but I don’t want you to get the impression that it will be easy. Your body will have to adjust to new blood—a lot of it. It may not like it at first, so you may feel side effects.”
“What would those be?” Simban asked.
He shrugged. “Possible pain, cramping, fevers, or general fatigue. To be honest, we don’t know all of the side effects that could occur. We’re going to have the elven healers document them for each of you so we have the knowledge for future surgeries.”
“Are you using magic to speed the healing and ease pain?” Fayelle inquired.
“Yes.” High Medic Tassarion smiled and gestured to Second Medic Zaleria.
She stepped forward. “We are assigning an elven healer to each bunk. The healer’s job will be to keep your body’s energy in harmony, to ease your pain, and help expedite you through each of the three stages. Fayelle and Irielle, do you want to be assigned to Mordjan and Simban respectively?”
Fayelle nodded. Even though the prospect was daunting, there was no way she could refuse. Not only was she going to have to watch Mordjan go through the stages, she was going to be intimately tied to him with her magic, and she would feel the pain if something went wrong. Yet, there was no one who would guard his life like she would.
“All right, the rest of you will meet your healers when you go to your assigned bunks.”
The second medic began pointing at the bunks and calling their names. When she called Mordjan’s name, he and Fayelle headed that way. There was a thin, gown-like shirt on the bed, and for a moment, Mordjan simply stared at it.
Moving slowly, he unhooked his armor and took it off, placing it carefully on a table to the side. Then he grabbed the hem of his shirt without fanfare and pulled it over his head before folding it and placing it beside his armor.
When she saw his body, for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Tanned skin covered huge muscles that rippled with his movements. He was easily twice as big as an elf, and the largest male she’d seen, save for the Ardaks.
When he’d finished with his clothing, he reached for the shirt and tried to pull it on.
It didn’t fit.
She gave a slightly hysterical giggle, and he scowled, but he didn’t look in her direction. Her giggle brought the notice of Second Medic Zaleria. The medic hurried over, glancing at Mordjan, who was still holding the shirt, which looked much smaller than it had when it was on the bed. “Yes, I see the problem. The other cyborgs from your planet will have the same issue.” She raised her voice. “Gentlemen, please lie down on the bunks and cover yourselves with the sheets. We will try to fit you with shirts as soon as possible.” She strode off down the bay, muttering under her breath.
Mordjan snorted and quickly folded and placed the shirt on the table next to his other things. Then he bent and pulled off his boots, placed them under the table, and crawled into the bunk.
Glancing circumspectly around the med wing, she saw that Simban, Borian, and Nordan had also stowed their belongings in exactly the same manner.
“Healers, this way,” the second medic called.
Fayelle crossed the med wing to her, and the second medic handed her a box. “Please put one needle, a roll of tape, two blue bags, two lengths of tubing, and four bright pink bags into your box and take it to your station.” She turned to Fayelle and Irielle. “Do you two know how to insert needles into a vein?”
She exchanged a glance with Irielle, and they both shook their heads. “All right, the first two healers who complete their patient prep will proceed to Mordjan and Simban and help with their needles.”
As Fayelle crossed the med wing back to Mordjan, she sidled up to Irielle, who looked terrified, and Fayelle put an arm around her shoulders. The elf was trying to hide her nerves, but there was still a slight tremor rolling through her.
“I just don’t want to lose him, you know?” Irielle whispered.
“I do know,” Fayelle whispered back. “Mordjan . . .” she tried to speak, but found she couldn’t find the words. To have found a mate but not be together? It was unheard of in her culture.
Irielle knew exactly what she was going to say, because her eyes widened. “I thought that might be it. Does he know?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Perhaps he suspects, but I never told him. It wouldn’t change his mind, anyway.”
“You should tell him before . . .” Irielle’s eyes grew bright. “Just before. You don’t know how wonderful it can be.”
“I will try,” she promised.
They had reached their bunks, and Simban was on the opposite side of the aisle, so they parted ways. She placed the box on a small square table by a chair.
Mordjan’s eyes were closed, but she knew he wasn’t asleep.
Should she tell him about the magic? Despite Irielle’s statement, she wasn’t sure he would appreciate it. It would just make his choice more difficult, but she didn’t think he would change his mind. “Do you need anything?”
“No.” He said without opening his eyes. The quiet confidence in his voice touched her.
“Mordjan . . .” She swallowed. “I want to tell you something.”
“Yes?”
He still didn’t open his eyes, but she lost her nerve to tell him what she suspected and voiced another concern instead. “This kind of surgery might rely on technology to upgrade your parts and pieces. But I know in my heart that, for you to come through it successfully, you will require hope. The mind and belief are powerful tools. They are more powerful than you can imagine—almost as powerful as the heart. And hope brings them together. Hope will bring you through things when technology would fail.”
“Then we’re in a lot of trouble,” he admitted after a long pause, his eyes still closed. “Because I’m afraid my hope is in short supply these days.”
“Just . . . try. Try to find something to believe in. Your people. Your battle for Aurora. Yourself.”
He was silent for long moments. Finally, he said, “I believe in you. Thank you for being here.”
“You may not thank me later,” she warned. “I don’t even know how to put this needle thing in. Who knows what other knowledge I lack?”
His lips quirked up at the corners. “You aren’t here to stick things into me. I feel confident about your magical expertise, and that’s all that matters.”
His confidence buoyed her spirits, and she watched curiously as the medic came over and inserted the needle into his arm. The thin device seemed quite large, but then she eyed the bags. There was a lot of liquid to transfer out of and into him.
High Medic Tassarion arrived next, pushing a cart weighed down with machines. He pulled one machine off the cart and plac
ed it by Mordjan’s bed. Then he began attaching the metal tubing, with first a small tube coming from Mordjan’s arm and the blue liquid, then adding a bright pink bag to the line.
“The fluorescent blue bag is an anesthetic. It will make you fall asleep. When you wake up, you’ll have these four bags of artificial blood inside your body.”
The high medic patted his leg reassuringly before he moved on to the next cyborg.
Fayelle watched the bright blue liquid flow into Mordjan’s arm, and his breathing slowly evened out. He squeezed her hand once more before it went slack.
She took a deep breath, gathering her focus and her magic. Then she placed his hand by his side and wove a web of healing magic around him.
The high medic came by once more when he was finished with the others, carrying a small device that beeped irritatingly. He moved down Mordjan’s body, holding the device over it.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for low-level energy outputs, which will tell me where his energy crystal was implanted.”
The beeping increased, and the high medic froze. “Got it. The battery crystal is located in his right thigh.”
“The one you will replace in stage two?”
“Yes.” He strode to the head of the bed and typed something into the computer.
“What happens now?”
He pointed to the bag. “Now, we’re going to replace half his red blood cells with these artificial cells. It will take several hours, and I will need you to stay here to make sure he remains stable.”
It made a horrible kind of sense. “So there isn’t anything else for me to do at this point? Nothing I can do to ensure his body doesn’t reject the cells?”
“No. Just focus on keeping him stable for us, on blending his life force with the new substance.”
Lights over the door suddenly began to flash orange, and she heard a distant scream.
The high medic’s wrist device buzzed. He examined it, his face widening with shock. “Jaffete! I’m sorry, but I have to run. One of the critical cases from the battlefield on Velmar just took a turn for the worse, and I have to make my rounds there.”
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